


a lamb for a rose

by jdphoenix



Series: a lamb [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, Angst, F/M, Gen, Time Travel, Unhappy Ending, in the background you never see it, the main ship should probably be more like Phil/loving his kids to death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 20:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10521147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: There's only one thing Phil really wants from Hive. Unfortunately for him, the reverse is true as well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If the tags and the character list up there didn't make it obvious, this 'verse has a very different history from canon ~~as a result of time travel~~.
> 
> Prompt: "How about a trade?"

“How about a trade?” Calderon is the one who says it. Phil’s been trying not to, been holding back the words because he can’t bear to offer this _thing_ anything more than what it’s already taken from them.

It tips its head in a predatory gesture that sets Phil’s mind at ease even as it makes his instincts quiver on the edge of real fear. The motion is completely inhuman (and not even the pun can cheer Phil up while he’s barely a meter away from the thing) and acts as another dividing line between it and the near mirror image of it that’s standing guard a few feet away.

“A trade…,” Hive - that’s the classification they’ve given it, since it hasn’t seen fit to introduce itself in all the years its been sowing chaos - says in that slow, measured way it has. Even though Calderon made the offer, its eyes are on Phil. It opens its hands (and that wipes away all the relief he was feeling; this is definitely a move he’s seen before). “What do you have to offer that I cannot simply take?”

“Technology,” Calderon says. He lifts one hand off the tabletop to gesture to the agents hovering by the crates lining this aisle of the warehouse, but none move. “We know you’re sick.”

Hive’s attention finally shifts to Calderon. Phil breathes a little easier.

He also privately promises to tear Calderon a new one for that later. The intel that Hive is experimenting on his own DNA in hopes of prolonging his already absurd lifespan was hard won. The advantage it gave them shouldn’t be so easily tossed aside.

“But your technology is leaps and bounds behind ours. We can give you a leg up, hope of curing yourself.”

Its lips turn up a little. “Can you?”

Reluctantly, Phil repeats the motion Calderon made earlier. This time FitzSimmons step forward. They’ve got a whole pitch ready - what it’s been agreed they won’t mind handing over to Hive first, followed later by what they’re willing to let it have. It appears attentive throughout, but Phil gets the impression it’s not so much paying attention to what’s being _said_ as to … something else. He isn’t sure what, but he knows he doesn’t like it.

When FitzSimmons are done, they move quickly back to their places with the others next to the crates. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil sees Ward catching Simmons with a reassuring hand at her back. It’s another reminder that this creature in front of him isn’t Ward, for all they look nearly identical. What the cause for that is, Phil doesn’t know. There have been theories batted about - most of which Phil has tried to tamp down before they can reach Ward - but none of them make any particular kind of sense and, for the most part, Phil prefers to ignore the similarities.

Which is a lot easier when they aren’t sitting an arm’s length away.

Hive closes its eyes like it’s bored and drops its head back a little. Immediately one of the Inhumans lined up behind it moves forward. Phil’s gut clenches as Daisy sets her hands on its shoulders, presumably using her powers to ease its aches and pains.

“And what would you want in return?” it sighs, like it’s annoyed they’re bothering it with these peace talks at all.

Even though this is supposed to be Phil’s show, Calderon answers quickly. Probably because he knows exactly what Phil would ask for right now. “A suspension of hostilities. And that you and your people hold at the Eurasia line.”

Hive’s head tips, this time in a very human way. It knows as well as they do that the line has already been crossed and there’s no moving back from it. Its amusement seems to grow and it sits a little straighter. Daisy’s hands drop, but she doesn’t return to her place in line.

“That isn’t what you really want,” it says to Phil.

He shifts in his seat, refusing to look over its head. “Not all of us can simply take what we want.”

It nods in acknowledgment. “But I can give her to you.” It turns, lifting one hand to play with Daisy’s hair. “I can release her.”

Daisy looks horrified, but Phil doesn’t need to turn around to know the others are anything but. They had no idea it was possible for Hive’s sway to be removed. Simmons has been killing herself continuing Cal’s research with no success. (Less than no success, honestly. Every subject has died. Most in ways that would give Phil nightmares if he didn’t have plenty already.)

Calderon’s hand wraps around Phil’s wrist. “That isn’t the deal we agreed on,” he says softly while Hive still seems preoccupied treating Daisy like a doll.

Phil stands and steps away from the table. He’s immediately crowded, both by those who want to speak and those who are just acting as a wall to keep Hive and his slaves from hearing.

“We need that Eurasia line,” Hartley says softly. She’s right. They’ve already got their hands full on the Pacific front - they lost contact with their last Australian base four days ago and no one’s holding out hope it hasn’t fallen - and if Hive crosses the Eurasia line in earnest, it will only be a matter of time before it takes the entire continent, then the rest of Africa, and then it’s just a whole lot of water between it and them.

Simmons presses forward. “If we had access to someone who _was_ swayed and no longer _is_ …” She sighs out a breath, the possibilities too hopeful for her to give them voice.

Fitz isn’t similarly cautious. “We might be able to undo it in others.”

“Or you wouldn’t,” Calderon says tersely.

“But we’d have Daisy back,” Simmons points out.

“Ward?” Phil asks, looking to the one person who hasn’t spoken yet.

Ward’s focus is on Hive - Hive and Daisy, if he had to guess. His Adam’s apple bobs and the lines on his face grow deeper. There are no lines on Hive’s face - it looks as young as it did in the photo of it and Red Skull that sits near the top of its file on Phil’s desk - but there’s a maturity in its eyes, a heaviness that’s on Ward’s face now. “We need that border line,” he says.

“We also need a way to free those Hive has enslaved,” Simmons says, anger making her voice sharp.

Phil holds up a hand. He’s heard enough.

Hive doesn’t hesitate to ignore Daisy once Phil’s sitting again, and Phil takes a second to tamp down the anger that swells in his chest at its careless treatment of her.

“You’re offering us Daisy,” Phil says because he’s gotta spell it out, he’s gotta know what he’s giving up, otherwise he won’t be able to face himself tomorrow. (He still might not be able to, but at least this way he’s not a complete coward.)

It smiles. “And the suspension of hostilities _and_ the Eurasia line.”

Phil tenses. He’s been at this long enough to know when something sounds too good to be true. All that for a little technological advancement? One it can - like it said - just steal from them? Definitely too good.

“Both of which are well worth the technology you offered. But I think we can agree Daisy is worth quite a bit more.”

There it is. Phil swallows down the bile in his throat and forces the words out. “I’m afraid that’s all we can offer you. The suspension and the border will have to be enough.”

The words sit in the air, heavy and accusing. Hive holds his eyes steadily, saving him from looking over its head. Daisy was literally a handful of words away from freedom, and Phil couldn’t give them to her. He feels sick.

“You love her,” Hive says. It sounds merely curious, but the words feel like a slap in the face. “You could not love a daughter of your own flesh and blood more.”

Phil lifts his chin. “This isn’t about me. Or Daisy.” It’s about the whole world and what Hive’s doing to it. He won’t let his own feelings get in the way of stopping this monster.

For a split second, it looks almost like a triumphant smile appears on its face. But it only looks placid when it says, “The technology you offer is leaps and bounds ahead of ours. We will return Daisy to you in exchange for someone who understands it. Your other daughter will do well.”

Phil’s felt fear before, but there’s never been anything like what he feels now. Losing Daisy, having no idea where she was, what was happening to her, what this _thing_ was doing to her, that was bad enough. He could feel his heart breaking in more ways than one every day that worry weighed on him. But this? This demand that he balance one life he loves against another? And worse, the knowledge that he has no choice at all in the matter.

“Yes,” Simmons says while the rest of them are still struggling with the reality of Hive’s demand.

“No!” Fitz says it, but Ward practically roars it.

Hive’s expression, for the first time, turns to annoyance. Phil follows its attention and finds Ward holding Simmons against one of the massive crates, his hands so tight around her arms he’s gotta be leaving bruises.

“You’re not going with him,” he growls.

“We can’t find a cure without you,” Fitz says.

Simmons gets that annoyed-with-Fitz look on her face, one of a hundred expressions that are purely _Jemma_ , and Phil’s heart constricts to see it now. He knows what the boys don’t yet: she’s already decided.

“Lincoln can do it,” she says softly, eyes darting in Hive’s direction even though there’s no way she can see it around Ward. “He’s been working with me on it for months now.”

“But we’ll be handing Hive a hostage,” Calderon points out.

“He already has plenty,” Phil says sadly.

Fitz throws him a dirty look, but it’s Ward’s that stops his breathing for a half-second. He’s seen Ward this angry before, but he’s never been on the receiving end of it.

“He planned this,” Ward says tightly. His hands soften around Simmons’ arms but don’t let go. “He wanted her from the beginning. That’s why he came.”

“And how do you know all that?” Calderon asks. Out of Ward’s view, Hartley’s hand moves to her sidearm.

Ward holds Phil’s eyes. “You can see it. The way he looks at her. It’s plain as day on his-” his mouth twitches in a pained sort of humor- “on his face.”

Phil did. That strangeness to Hive’s attention when FitzSimmons were speaking, if he’d seen that on anyone else’s face he would’ve pegged it right away. But on Hive’s? Not only did he not recognize the creature was capable of such an emotion, he didn’t _want_ to recognize it, especially directed at one of his people.

“I’m not an Inhuman,” Simmons says pragmatically. “He can’t sway me.” 

“There are other things it can do,” Hartley says softly, her voice thick with emotion. The two women’s eyes meet, and whatever passes between them only firms Simmons’ resolve.

“We need him to stop advancing,” she says. “And we need a way to stop him from brainwashing anyone else. This is our _best chance_.” She meets Phil’s eyes again, silently pleading with him.

Pleading that he’ll let her throw her life away.

She’s a _kid_ and she’s begging him to order Ward down, to hold Fitz back so she can walk into a monster’s den. God, and what’s he gonna say to Daisy?

“He’s full of shit,” Ward says. His hands move to her shoulders. “All that stuff about the tech? It’s bullshit, you’ve gotta see that.”

“Perhaps,” she says, and for the first time there’s a faint tremor in her voice. “But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe…”

“Maybe the big bad mass murderer is gonna fall in love and turn into a good person?” Calderon asks, his voice low but dripping with mockery. “This isn’t some fairy tale, Simmons. You walk out of here with that thing, you’re lucky if it only wants you for your brain.” He _oomphs_ when Hartley backhands him in the gut.

Simmons’ eyes are closed against the words Calderon didn’t say - the ones he didn’t have to.

Ward’s hands move to her cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

She smiles sadly. “This isn’t about me.”

Phil turns away, unable to stomach his own words thrown back at him. Hive is watching, attention fixed on the knot of people trying to protect Simmons from it. One of its hands is resting on the tabletop, the lines of tension in its closed grip are the only sign it’s worrying over how this plays out. For whatever reason, it really wants Simmons.

And it showed real emotion when it looked like Ward was gonna hurt her. Maybe that means something. Phil has to hope it means something.

He steps forward, wraps his hands around the back of his chair. “You have a deal.”

“No!” Fitz yells again, but the decision’s been made. If Phil didn’t make it now, Simmons would probably make it for him down the road. This way at least they know they’ll get Daisy.

Ward’s arms drop limply to his sides, giving her room to say her goodbyes.

She hugs Fitz first, gives him empty promises about how they’ll see each other again. His fingers curl desperately in the back of her blouse, and Calderon has to step in to pull him away before she starts crying.

Hartley gets a hug too, fierce and fast. She whispers something in Simmons’ ear, something Simmons gives a solemn nod to once they separate.

Ward is next. He shakes his head in silent denial and wraps her up in his arms like he thinks he can hide her from this. She whispers words meant to sooth him. He only grips her tighter and whispers hurriedly back. But he does let her go. Then he’s off to help Calderon with Fitz.

That leaves Phil. Time seems to slow down as she steps closer. The world spins around him like a carnival ride.

He’s not ready for this.

“I’m sorry,” he says as she steps into arms he didn’t consciously open for her.

She grips him tight around the neck and he feels tears leak past the collar of his shirt. “Tell my parents- tell them-”

“I’ll tell them where you are,” he promises. At least that way they’ll know she’s alive.

Her head shakes desperately against his shoulder.

“All right, no,” he agrees; he’d agree to anything she asked right now. “You’re MIA.”

Some of her tension - but not all - eases.

“But not forever.” He gathers her tight to his chest and whispers, “We’re gonna beat him back. We’re gonna find a cure. And we’ll come for you.”

She eases away without agreeing. She doesn’t believe him, but he’ll prove it to her by doing it. They won’t leave her with that monster.

He holds her at arm’s length, burning her face into his memory. Because he’ll miss her. Not because he won’t see her again. He _will_.

She steps away, to the corner of the table. Hive and Daisy stand on the other side.

“ _Please_ ,” Daisy says pitifully when one of Hive’s hands lifts to her temple.

Its expression is pitying. “It won’t be forever.”

The echo of his own promise to Simmons hits Phil like a blow to the gut, but the shock that follows keeps him on his feet. Something flows out of Daisy into Hive’s hand, a fine dust that it wipes away as she slips to the floor.

“Daisy!” Jemma half-catches her. Daisy scrambles past her, crab-walks backward on hands and feet while she drags in gasping breaths and looks at Hive with terror-wide eyes.

Phil moves to intercept her, give her support, and Ward is only a beat behind him. She freezes in their arms. “Jemma,” she breathes, voice cracking. “Jemma, _no_ -”

“It’s okay,” Simmons says tearily.

“There will be pain,” Hive says, cutting into whatever more Simmons was going to say. It moves close behind her, but doesn’t touch her. “After the shock,” it adds, nodding to Daisy, “there will be pain. Be ready for it.”

Phil doesn’t doubt that. Daisy’s breathing is already labored beneath his arm and once she comes out of it well enough to remember not just this terrible moment, but everything that monster put her up to in the last few months, she’ll hate herself. He holds her tight, her back to his chest, letting his skin warm hers; she feels icy.

Warning given and business concluded, Hive turns its attention to Simmons. That look it wore while she and Fitz spoke earlier is back, more open now that it has her in its clutches. It lifts a hand between them.

Simmons’ fingers shake against the edge of the table as she holds the unnervingly steady gaze of the monster Phil just sold her to. But her hand lifts like a queen’s when she rests it in its proffered palm.

It grins toothily, looking again more like a predator than a man, and sweeps her along in its wake as it leaves. Its remaining slaves file out after it until all that’s left are Phil and his people and a silence made all the heavier by the way Daisy sobs into Ward’s chest.

 


End file.
